


London Ghoul

by Delirious_And_Misanthrophic_2309



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Anorexia, Blood and Gore, Bolemia, Cannibalism, Eating Diorders, Gen, Happy Ending (most likely), M/M, Not technically cannibalism but, Protectiveness, Racism, Tokyo Ghoul Universe, Torture, Trigger Warnings, sassy!Crowley, tokyo ghoul - Freeform, tw, you don't need to have watched or read Tokyo Ghoul to understand this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious_And_Misanthrophic_2309/pseuds/Delirious_And_Misanthrophic_2309
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A. J. Crowley and Aziraphale Fellair find themselves the representatives of their respective species in London. Crowley's a low-level ghoul with a sharp tongue and Aziraphale's a CCG investigator—called the Ghoul-Finder Army by the locals—who gave away his prized quinque. </p><p>  <i>Or</i></p><p>In which cologne, good coffee, a lack of social graces, and driving over the speed limit saves the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	London Ghoul

A man with thin hair and crows' feet cleared his throat. The camera centered on him and a rotund man to his left. "In recent news, the CCG has announced plans to begin working with the ghouls. More on this story, coming up." 

The BBC switched to an overview of the weather, which called for rain, rain, and more rain. Then it switched back to two broadcasters in cleanly pressed suits. 

"Earlier this morning the ghoul-finder ar—pardon me—the CCG announced its finalized plan to improve relations between the humans and the ghouls." He looked unsure. 

"The Northwestern European branch will be the first in what the CCG hopes will be an implemented plan for all other regions across the world. The idea was first presented by Doctor Ogura, one of the world's foremost ghoul researchers and experts. He said in an article published last May that 'ghoul-human relations can be greatly improved if representative positions of the two species were created'. Doctor Hadley, who worked closely with Doctor Ogura on _A Study of Ghouls_ made a related comment saying that 'ghoul-human problems are caused, at large, by misunderstandings'."

"Yeah. The fact that they ruthlessly slaughter us isn't the problem." Doctor Hadley, while working in the U.S. a few years ago published a study called _Subversive Tactics: The Innocent Comments _, which had a forty page section dedicated to how jokes are the most used and powerful way in which people divide themselves. Following the pattern, jokes are simplified and far more digestible answers to real problems, which in turn, cause the problems to become simplified and eventual jokes themselves. Had Doctor Hadley seen this particular broadcast live, she would've thrown her remote across the room and shouted "this is exactly what I'm talking about!" However, she simply heard about it, then saw a recording a colleague showed her, which caused the exact same reaction, except the remote was a coffee mug.__

__After the two hosts suppressed their chuckling, the slightly more mature one went on._ _

__"The CCG and the London Ward Alliance—LWA—have selected their representatives as of this morning and the two ambassadors will begin meeting this evening at randomly chosen, neutral locations to mediate relations." The news turned to the latest tragedy elsewhere in the world, and Aziraphale turned the T.V. off. He sighed and slid down the wall, worrying his hands. Madam Tracy made a pitying noise and turned on a tea kettle._ _

__"Don't be so worried, love," She said._ _

__"I'm not worried."_ _

__"But your dreading tonight."_ _

__"Yes."_ _

__"I can see why you'd be stressed." She leant against the counter and waited for the water to start boiling. Aziraphale sat on the floor, curly hair in disarray, glasses taken off, and a wrinkled uniform made him look far less confident than he really was. "It's a big responsibility. This could mean a permanent change in the world between ghouls and humans—a change for the better."_ _

__"I just . . . I'm not qualified. I was a guard; I went to training in weapons and defense."_ _

__She barked out a laugh. "Pretty bad guard at that."_ _

__Aziraphale frowned, "That even more proves my point. I don't know the first thing about cultural sensitivity and how to diffuse dangerous situations. I have no idea what They were thinking when they assigned me to this position."_ _

__"Ah, the higher ups. I don't know what goes on behind those doors, but what the Metatron says, goes." Aziraphale didn't need this information reaffirmed._ _

__"Do you think . . ." He began, almost angrily. "Do you think they're setting us up for failure?" Madam Tracy's smile dropped for a moment, before her lips twisted into a grin._ _

__"Nah." Aziraphale was confused by her casual assuredness. "If they wanted it to fail they'd sent someone like our favorite Sergeant, or that newbie he's got. I think your unqualifiedness is exactly what makes you qualified."_ _

__"Now just how does that make any sense?" The pot had finally begun boiling so she made all the necessary preparations, and got two mugs down._ _

__"Perhaps the ghouls are sending somebody as equally unqualified. This way, neither side will be particularly advantaged over the other. Then again, the ghouls could just lie. Or we could've. But I think you see through lies easily enough, and I think They think that."_ _

__"But they could just send some s-level ghoul and take me hostage or something!"_ _

__Madam Tracy just laughed. "Honey, you're not important enough to be a bargaining chip. That's probably why they chose you. You're not high up enough to know any information that could be tortured out of you, and you're certainly disposable."_ _

__"I feel better already." He snarked. Aziraphale relaxed when she handed him a cup of tea and sat down next to him._ _

__"There's a lot of ideas going about right now. Lots of forces at play. Way too much information to consider." She spoke softer now. "I'd save yourself the heart ache by not trying to understand it and just settle for it being ineffable. At least then we have a name for it." She took a sip of her own tea. Aziraphale stared at the swirling steam climbing from his earl grey._ _

__"Nothing but ineffable, huh?"_ _

__"Exactly!" She was pleased what she had said was sinking in. "Our side if ineffable, the ghouls are ineffable—I'm definitely ineffable."_ _

__"You're certainly right about the last one." Aziraphale finally smiled. A door opened and the head of Newton Pulsifer poked in._ _

__"Madam Tracy, Mr. Aziraphale? Sergeant Shadwell says, and I quote, 'get Jezebel and the southern pansy down to my office right now.' Breaks over." He looked helpless but excited being only a glorified errand boy. Madam Tracy was the first to stand._ _

__"Oh, yes, I can hear him now." Aziraphale stood up next to her. "Guess I can't shirk him all day. Come on, love."_ _

__Elsewhere in London, in a setting far less pristine and up-to-standard, a ghoul paced around a flat, threatening the lives of the potted plants, while a young woman helped herself to some coffee._ _

__"And I'll starve you of nitrogen for a whole month! How would you like that? And you, Poinsettia, will have all your leaves flayed, and you'll be lucky if I don't replace you with a graft of that oak in town square. How would you like that? Replaced by a bonsai tree!"_ _

__"Crowley, don't take your anger out on them." She said, spooning some sugar and milk into a chipped mug._ _

__"I'm just threatening, Ana." He whispered, as if they could hear him. "I wouldn't really take away their nitrogen deposits. The fear helps them grow." _It's hard to take him seriously_ Anathema thought. A. J. Crowley: classic rock enthusiast, enemy of plants everywhere, and the only registered owner of a 1926 Bentley. He worked a day job which required him to wear a red tie, black button-up vest, with a white undershirt and coal black pants. Anathema rarely saw him in any other clothes, which she realized had less to do with Crowley not owning any other clothes, and more to do with the fact that he worked constantly. But around his apartment the tie was gone, the top buttons weren't fastened, and the pristine white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Sometimes he was dorky enough to wear a bleach-smattered apron while he tended to his plants. It made him look even more demure than Anathema knew he really was. _ _

__"If you say so, tough guy." She handed him a cup of black coffee. "Personally, I think they're on to you."_ _

__Crowley looked offended. "On to me?"_ _

__"I think they realized you're all bark and no bite." She almost flinched at the comparison._ _

__"Oh no, they know for a fact I'll follow through with at least some of my threats. I made an example of a hasta with slightly curled leaves just the other week. Trust me, they know who's boss. Which reminds me. I have a thing tonight." He said, sipping his coffee._ _

__"A thing." Maybe the time was now to test how much Crowley trusted her._ _

__"Yeah, a thing." Perhaps a little more, then._ _

__"Care to elaborate?" She pressed._ _

__"I . . . have to work on . . inventory—for the shop." _Oh, Crowley, if only you knew you were a terrible liar_. But she let it slide. _ _

__"Seems your boss has always got you working."_ _

__"Yeah, well, you know how it goes." _Yeah_ , she thought, _there ain't no rest for the wicked._ And Mr. Crowley was terribly wicked, by human standards. But Anathema did hope he got some rest. She decided she'd leave Crowley to his own devices, even though she hadn't even finished half of her coffee. _ _

__"Alright, I guess I'll be off, then." She knew exactly what Crowley's "thing" was, being particularly intuitive and all. She also knew why her friend only consumed coffee in front of her, and why, on those rare occasions he did eat, why he needed to excuse himself to the bathroom quickly after. Anathema once wondered why Crowley wouldn't tell her, but then she realized Crowley might not feel safe. Human opinions of ghouls tended to be very negative._ _

__And, if she were honest with herself, the first time she had met Crowley she threatened him with a bread knife. Although, looking back in hindsight, she realized the knife wouldn't have been effective on him. She eventually got over her surprise of not being eaten when she felt Crowley's hunger, but refusal to consume._ _

__Sometimes he looked sickly, and wobbled. Anathema quickly realized the ration of one corpse per two months wasn't enough to sustain a ghoul on. She wished she could help, sometimes, but then she fantasized how that conversation would go in her head._ _

___"Yes, Crowley. So I understand you're a ghoul." She would begin. "And I've noticed you look, well, hungry. I couldn't help but wonder if you had been eating enough corpses—or perhaps outright murdering people to eat. I just want you to know that I'm perfectly willing to be an accomplice and help you secure some more food, granted that it's all legitimate. And while we're on the topic, I have to ask: do certain bodies taste different than others? Would you get sick if you ate somebody with cancer? I can't imagine how diseases would react to your body. Although I guess your lot has regenerative capabilities, according to all the studies done, so maybe that works with diseases, too. Oh! And can I see your tendrils? Er, a Japanese doctor apparently coined their name as 'kagune', I believe. Well, that's what I read at least."_ _ _

___No_ she shook her head _that would not go over well.__ _

__"Are . . . You okay?" He asked, torn between steeping closer and further away._ _

__"What?" She asked eloquently._ _

__"You stared at the wall for a minute after saying you were going to leave, then just shook your head."_ _

__"Oh, yes. I'm perfectly fine." It's you who's not fine, damn it she thought. With that, Anathema actually did excuse herself after slipping on her boots._ _

__Crowley took her mug and tossed what remained down the sink. He thought for a moment about threatening a plant with it, but decided he had terrorized them enough for one day._ _

__Crowley went an out his kitchen and grabbed a few pieces of silverware. He placed them in the dishwasher, alongside a couple of unused bowls and plates. Then he opened a bag of chips and tossed a few handfuls away. He also poured out some cereal and some fruits were flung over his balcony and into a park across the road to be consumed by some squirrels or something. If Crowley had lived in an area just slightly closer to the country, his recklessness with food might have attracted actual wild animals. However, this was also England, and the wildest animal England had was a fox._ _

__Crowley had a ritual of removing foods, rearranging the half gallons in his fridge, and actually running the dishwasher. It made it look like Crowley actually ate._ _

__The truth was Crowley did eat. Just not human food, that required formal bowls and utensils. But Crowley had enough human company over, that he actually needed to have a refrigerator stocked, and cupboards that contained Tupperware and what not. At first his excuses were always "I eat out a lot" or "I've been meaning to run to the store". But it hindered his abilities as a host, not having food to eat. So, with Anathema coming and going so often, he started buying food. Of course, she'd come over and eat the stuff that was nearest to going bad, and even take some of it home, but Crowley had to make it look like he, too, consumed the food._ _

__He was just finishing up this ritual when his cell phone started ringing from the other room. He heard the ringtone of Shut Me Up and groaned._ _

__"Hallo?"_ _

__"Crawly."_ _

__"Hastur." Crowley held his sigh. Of all the people working at the shop, it had to be him working call duty today._ _

__"Your meeting is today, Crawly."_ _

__"Yes, I know."_ _

__"We're all looking forward to hearing about it afterwards, Crawly."_ _

__"Stop saying—it's not even my name. Say it with me: crow-lee, like 'ow, I've stubbed my toe', not craw-lee, like craw fish."_ _

__". . . I don't think you understand the importance of tonight, Crawly."_ _

__"And I don think you dukes know how to use your ears."_ _

__"Don't give me lip, Craw fish."_ _

__"I would never."_ _

__"If you botch this, Crawly, you understand what will happen to you," _Oh, now Hastur's actually serious_ "you will be cut-off, and left to starve, Crawly and your fate will be whispered by mothers in dark places to frighten their young! Got it?"_ _

__"Got it."_ _

__"Good." There was a pause. "What are you wearing tonight?"_ _

__"Why, Hastur—" Crowley smirked._ _

__"Shut up. How the humans view us is important. We can't have our representative depressed like some nutter."_ _

__"Ooh, but your representative _is_ a nutter."_ _

__"That may be, but you just can't dress like one." Hastur seemed to realize what he had been doing. Crowley could hear him frown. "Try to be serious, Crowley. I know that's so damn hard for you." It really was hard. Crowley's skills were limited to sass and more sass. And Hastur was a duke—an s-class—, while Crowley wasn't even worth killing._ _

__Crowley wasn't the sort who ignored reality. Rather, he just pressed it as much as he could. And seeing how long it would a take for a duke to loose his temper was always worth the possible repercussions._ _

__"I'm going to wear black pants, snakeskin shoes, no socks, nipple rings—I'm kidding—just think 'The Golden Globes'." Crowley could heard Hastur blink. "Er, it's acceptable, I assure you."_ _

__"Good. You know where you're going?"_ _

__"The Ritz, six o'clock."_ _

__"Damn it, Crawly, I'm not supposed to know."_ _

__"Oh. Whoops."_ _

__Hastur sighed and Crowley just knew he was pinching his nose. "Please don't tell me you're going to be so loose lipped at your meeting."_ _

__"Only if it calls for it." Crowley noticed he should be getting ready. "No, I'm kidding. Even if I knew secrets I wouldn't tell them." Crowley thought about hissing for good measure. "Anyway, I've really got to go. Gotta look good for some angel." He hung up without waiting for a response._ _

__Crowley took off his work clothes, grabbed a freshly pressed suit from the closet, then proceeded to spend half the time on his hair. He considered putting on cologne, and did, thinking it couldn't hurt. Smelling nice could only result in good things, right? It was a little past five thirty when Crowley was ready. He grabbed his keys and was almost out the door when he remembered something._ _

__"You," he pointed at a terrified fern, "be good while I'm gone." He slammed the door, sealing a room full of London's most frightened but healthiest plants._ _

**Author's Note:**

> I only have a foggy idea of where this story is going, so the trigger warnings and other such things may not happen, or there might be more than what I listed. At the start of each chapter, however, if there is a specific trigger I'll warn you guys. 
> 
> I promise a happy ending, though.


End file.
